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Team Ecuador sets out for a trip to the Indian village of Otavalo. Again we make a straight forward trip into an event.
Like all of my favorite days on this journey through Ecuador we got a 5:30 wakeup call. Susie´s mom (Carol was to be in Otovalo) by 8am to start the class that she teaches and Otavalo is about 1.5 hours from Quito. Without thinking I sat up front and the rest of the group sat in the back. As we have already established, to say I am not a morning person is an understatement. As we drove along the scenic route to Otavalo, Carol was attempting to point out the important landmarks. I was having nothing of it. I started by a soft grunt to acknowledge her comments. Eventually I just passed out. I don´t think she quite figured that out until a mile from our destination when Carol provided us all with the ultimate wakeup call. At 45+ mph she hit a 2 foot speed bump without braking. I woke up abruptly only to yell, "Oh S%&$". Something that doesn´t go over particularly well with a missionary. But I didn´t absorb the worst of it. Susie was in the hatch of the SUV and she was tossed around like a rag doll. Tanner without a seatbelt on (he should have known better, Carols driving makes a blind Taxi driver look mundane), hit his head on the roof and slammed down on the door lock. The passenger side rear door no longer opens. Ooops. After checking in to a quaint hotel, Tanner, Anat and I demanded a couple cups of coffee.
 A familiar site in Otavalo
Otovalo is famous for its central Textile market. However today is the biannual cleanup. Truly amazing to see. There is at least 75 people in this central market cleaning, paintingand regrouting the sidewalk. Tanner and I stared in amazement at the teamwork. Susie told us that if you don´t participate you are ostracized from the community. I have never seen anything like this in the States. While eating breakfast we experienced a classicAmerican moment. Nick´s daily anecdote on why people hate American´s:The only people in the café this morning were a couple of twenty year old girls. One American (a classic Gringa) and one who appeared to be a local Indian. The American asks, "Do the Indians in this town celebrate Thanksgiving?"PAINFUL. Its moments like this where you realize how stupid and American-centric we appear to the outside world.
 Nick posing in front of the 'heart' in the mountain caused by two rockslides. Susie grew up in a village just below the bottom of the 'heart.'
After getting some fuel we headed out for a 4+ mile hike around Otavalo. Susie showed us her old house on the side of the mountain. We got to see some real old fashioned farming and a beautiful waterfall. After a hike/climb we eventually made it to a remote Bed and Breakfast on the lake. I was stoked when we got there, they had a putt-putt golf course. In standard Nick, uber-competitive fashion was ready to turn this in to a classic battle of the sexes golf tournament. To make the game more interesting we would play a version of best score. Tanner and I would take our lowest score on every hole and that would compare to the lowest score of the 3 girls. That way even the novice player could be competitive on a hole by hole basis. I had it all figured out. What I didn´t realize after 2 weeks on this journey through Ecuador is I was not the most competitive person here. Probably only the 2nd or 3rd time that has ever happened. Having grown up with 3 older brothers, Susie made me look sedentary. We played the first hole out and the guys won with a best score of 4 (the girls got a 5). What happened next is almost impossible to explain but might be the most bloggable event of the trip. I have been thinking about this for 2 days now and I still can´t figure out exactly how this went down. I should preface this with the fact that this is the hardest putt-putt golf course I have ever played. The guys won the 12 hole course with a composite score of 59. On one hole we couldn´t do better than 15. Susie realizing that her team had lost the 1st hole and Tanner having just hit his ball in the water because he didn´t hit it hard enough, decided it was time to pull her best Babe Ruth impersonation. She looks at the hole, stares it down, points at it and then swings away. Did I mention that we were playing putt-putt golf. I am pretty sure the word "swing" and "putt" are distinctly different strokes. Upon the follow-through this is what I recall. (1) A load thud, (2) getting hit in the foot with a piece of debrit (I am a good 10 feet from the action), (3) looking to the right and seeing Anat on the ground. Upon Susie´s follow-through she had wacked Anat in the face around the eye. What hit me in the foot was the eyepiece from her glasses. Thankfully I can write about this with a sense of humor because the glasses appear to have protected her. After an hour of ice, Anat seems relatively unscathed. No black eye to my amazement. It goes without saying that we finished the game. We eventually made it back to Otavalo and ended the evening with some Kareoke. It was painful. The bar started with 4 locals. After 4 Gringo songs, they all evacuated the bar. At one point even the bartender had to step out.
 Group photo before the 'putting incident.'
-Nick |
